The Ballad of Fengel
by Keppiehed
Summary: An account of Fengel, son of Folcwine, King of Rohan, and what twisted him into the greedy man he became. Origin story. Rated M to be safe for implied incest, non-con, violence to women in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

The Ballad of Fengel

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the incomparable J.R.R. Tolkien.

Rating may change later in the story.

A/N: Although I am a BIG fan of the movies, and I have read the books, I am not by any means an expert on the archival history and appendices. I am doing some research on these characters and timelines and such, but if there are inaccuracies that are addressed in detail somewhere, I will admit that I am not rabidly vetting all of the material with a fine tooth-comb. Please bear in mind that I am doing my best to honor the canon, but I am not a super expert. I welcome any help that would make the work more authentic and of course, constructive criticism! I apologize for glaring inaccuracies.

Xxxxxxx

The big events of your life don't always seem all that big at the time that they are happening to you. When you are an old man, like I am now, and you have plenty of time to look back over the memories, then they stand out, those times, like scars. You think to yourself, how could I have missed that? Wasn't I paying attention? A young man just jumps into life feet first, swinging his sword, and is blind to it all, I suppose. Or at least I was. Now I am alone with my memories.

I am getting ahead of myself. Let me begin at the beginning. I was a prince of Rohan, a mighty prince of the finest kingdom in Middle Earth. I was descended right from the first King of Rohan himself, King Eorl. It was a proud heritage to be part of, and I was born knowing I had better blood than most flowing through my veins. I was the fourth child of my father's loins, an enviable position, to be sure. My two elder brothers were heirs to the kingdom, and I got to enjoy the fruits of being royalty without the burdens that came with it. In short, my childhood was a paradise.

You might think that this favored position in the family would breed discontent between brothers, but it was just the opposite. I was looked upon with love by all who knew me. How did I manage such a feat? My brothers were older by the time I came along, and with only a girl child between us, they welcomed the addition of a male sibling. I, of course, adored them, and all was as it should be. My early years in the Golden House of Edoras were some of the best in my life, and as I am getting on in years, I can seem to remember those times more clearly than things that happened in later years. How can this be? Those days are long past! I am a man who has seen more than eighty winters, and yet those times are as clear to me as if they happened a moment ago. I can still remember the sun glinting off of Fastred's hair...

Xxxxxx

"Methinks this is a good tree to rest under, Brother." Fastred strode up to the very maple tree I was hiding in. I was hard put to stifle my giggles.

"Indeed, Brother. I am of a mind to partake of the noon meal, and this tree should do very nicely." Folcred stretched himself out and began to eat his lunch.

Fastred sat down with his back against the tree. Most people outside the family couldn't tell them apart, but of course I had no trouble at all. They were both very tall and thin, with long blond hair. I imagined that elves would have hair like that, but of course I had never seen an elf. I didn't even know if they were real or not. Sometimes in the evenings Father told us stories of great battles that were fought, and the elves were always the heroes. I would like to meet an elf one day, but I thought either of my brothers were probably better warriors than an elf. They certainly would have bigger muscles. Fastred and Folcred spent all day on the training field, either practicing with their swords, or with their horses. My heart swelled with pride just thinking of how fine they looked, and I was determined to be just like them.

Fastred yawned. "I think I may just take a nap here in this fine spot. What do you think of that?"

Folcred smiled agreeably. "Why, another fine idea. We have some time this afternoon to spend out here. Perhaps we will sleep it away." He bit into his meatpie.

At this bit of unexpected news, I couldn't contain myself. I was going to perpetrate some manner of mischief upon their unsuspecting forms, but at the news of a free afternoon with them, I couldn't afford to waste a minute. "Wait!" I shouted from high in the leafy branches. "I am right up here!" As a scrambled down gracelessly, I rained down all the dead twigs and leaves upon the twins' recumbent forms and created all the general fuss an eager young boy can. I dropped down almost on top of Folcred's head. "Can you school me in the art of swordplay? You promised!"

Fastred laughed, and deep grumble in his chest. "Look what we have here. A spy!"

"It seems so, Brother. Our rest is sadly disturbed. I suppose there will be no napping for us this afternoon."

I knew that they would relent, and I enjoyed being in the position of youngest in the family. "Before we begin, I am still hungry. Can I have half your pie?"

Fastred guffawed. "Give him an inch," he warned. "Don't do it. You are always encouraging him in the worst ways."

Folcred was a soft touch, and I knew it. He leaned over and ruffled my hair. "It seems I have an extra, Youngling." He tossed it to me, and I wolfed it down, the juice from the meat running down my chin.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," laughed Folcred. "We have a few hours today. You will get sick at that pace."

"Oh, don't be such a nursemaid to him," said Fastred from his place by the tree trunk. "Can't you see the boy's growing up? How old are you now, Boy? Seven?"

"Eight!" I said around a mouthful of onions.

"As old as that, already." Folcred marveled. "Well, Brother, you are right. Nearly a man it seems."

I detected the mirth in his voice and felt stung. I jumped to my feet, swallowing the last of the food. "I am not a boy any more. I am ready to learn to fight!"

Folcred raised his hands. "I meant no offense, Fengel. Be calm. You are indeed growing up, and learn to fight you shall. He slowly got to his feet and stood before me so that I had to look into his green eyes. All the mirth was gone. "Just don't be in such a big hurry to grow up. Once it is upon you, there is no turning back," he seemed a little sad.

I was in no mind to hear lessons of this nature, and I whipped out the little wooden sword that I had stowed down the back of my tunic. "Make yourself ready, Foe!" I shouted.

A gleam came into Folcred's eyes. "Is that how it is to be? Then _en guarde_!" he responded, and came at me with his bare hands. I heard Fastred groan and get up to watch. "That is not how it is done," he commented, but got drawn into the fray, and pretty soon we were all on the ground in a tangle of limbs, gasping and laughing.

I can still see the clouds above us in the sky, the bright sunshine glinting off of Fastred's hair, and smell of the grass, and the sound of their deep laughter. It is one of my best memories, and I wish I could freeze time and make it into a diamond, hold it in my palm forever. The remembrance of those times brings a glaze of tears to these dried out old eyes and this atrophied heart. It's a mercy that I didn't know then of what was to come...


	2. Chapter 2

The Ballad of Fengel

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This all belongs to the great J.R.R. Tolkien

There wasn't a better place in Middle Earth to be found to raise a boy than Rohan, particularly if you got to lay your head down in the Golden Hall of Edoras to sleep at night. It was the traditional ruling place of the kings of Rohan since time immemorial, and it certainly suited my needs as a boy. It was perched upon the highest hill in the kingdom, and you could see as far as your eyes could focus. The people were subservient, and showed it, by being properly respectful of us as the royal family. I didn't really play with any of the other boys, but I wouldn't, would I? When I started proper training on the tilting fields I got a chance to mix in with them, and I did plenty of that. They were farmers and tradespeople, and I had been informally training with my brothers for years at that point. It was no wonder that I showed a natural aptitude for war games and bested the lot of them. It seemed I was destined for greatness.

The mead flowed freely at Edoras every night. The menfolk worked hard, and they expected their reward. It was given freely. Of course, we couldn't feast every night, but times were good, and we ate well. There was always meat ripe off the bone, potatoes and fresh vegetables. Our people did not know hunger, and there was great laughter and jesting in the halls. The sounds of it could be heard in my chamber nearly every night, and it was a comforting buzz that I learned to lull myself to sleep to. The sounds of men making merry, shouting, laughing, wenching.

My father would tell me stories on the nights when he was in a particularly good mood. He was a warrior king who was greatly respected in our land, and I rarely saw him. My mother had died with my birth, but I didn't mourn her death. It was a frequent visitor to this land, and I didn't even know her. I was much closer to my brothers than my father, even if they were busy learning to be heirs of the kingdom. They always made time for me. My father tried to make time, but he had a lot of demands on him. Which is why the nights when he chose to tell his stories, like tonight, were particularly special.

We all gathered together in the dining hall, and my father would be on his fourth or fifth cup of ale, but he was never drunk, just between that place when he was able to be relaxed and happy. He could look around him and see his family there. Tonight was such a night. The moods came upon him without warning, and you had to be ready. He had a very deep voice. "Did I ever tell you about the time I forded the River Isen with nothing but the horse beneath me, and naught but my hunting horn and a change of clothes in my saddle bag?" The general chatter died down, and the King's eyes were looking into mine. He knew how to tell a tale, and everyone settled in in anticipation of a good yarn. Hell, half of them had borne witness to the event, and couldn't wait to hear it glorified!

"Yes, it's true, it was right after my own father had been killed in a hunting accident, and I was newly crowned. I was out for blood, any blood. I had heard that those damned Dunlendings were invading our land, and I was going to stop it. We rode hell for leather on that trip, I had murder in my heart and revenge in my eyes. No amount of hatred would bring my father back, but I would do my best to smite those bastards!" His deep tones rang out in remembered vengeance, and several of the men dutifully took a sip of ale.

"But, Father," my child's voice was high pitched in the stillness of the great hall. "Wasn't your own father killed by a boar?"

My audacity should have been punished, but my father was lenient. "Yes, my son. Folca was known as the Hunter, for his prowess and skill. It was he that we owe for our safety still within these borders, for he took a vow never to hunt another creature until every orc within these lands was dead. It took him thirteen years, but he accomplished this goal. Then, on a simple hunting expedition, he was gored in a terrible tragedy. It was then that I became the fourteenth king."

Every man raised their goblet in silent reverence.

"It was shortly after this unfortunate turn of happenstance that I learned of these...cowards," here King Folcwine spit the word out with venom, "were taking advantage of a young king and invading our lands. They had made a terrible error. I turned my grief into bloodlust, and slew the lot of them in a battle that is worthy of remembrance, even today. Am I right, boys?"

To this, every one of them, to a man, shouted in unison "Aye!" and stomped their feet. The thrill of the moment shot through me and I was dazzled that my father was so well loved. Fastred, who was seated across from me, could see this, and gave me a wink. I grinned back.

"The rest is glorious history," King Folcwine settled back in his chair. "I recaptured our land and more, returning and restoring us to the heights of magnificence which is now Rohan as you know it. We did not always have possession of the lands of the West-march between the rivers Adorn and Isen, but it is ours to lose now, and I charge any man to try and take it from us, especially with my sons in the next to guard it!" His eyes rested upon my brothers, twin beacons of blond brilliance. Hoots and hollers broke out at this boast, and it was known that the twins were universally well regarded. Fastred smirked a little and nodded at the din in general, acknowledging the attention, but Folcred's shoulder's stiffened, and he looked down just a little at the floor. Of the two, he was the less comfortable with the public scrutiny his position as Prince demanded. Only someone who knew him well would know that he was uncomfortable with the regard, for he hid it diligently.

The rest of the evening was spent recounting various battles and skirmishes, tales that kept me up past when a lad should be. I had no bedtimes. I had no rules or limits opposed upon me, I was free to do as I wished, when and how I wished, a genuine Prince of the realm. My head fell heavy on the oaken table, tankard still in hand, dreams of things far beyond my ken raging in my youthful sleep.

Xxxxxx

I awoke some time later with a crick in my neck and a numb arm, no doubt from sleeping in such an awkward position at the table. I was briefly disoriented, but quickly got my bearings. There were still quite a few people in the hall, as it wasn't as late as I had supposed, just late for a young boy. I glanced over to where my father would have sat, but his chair was empty. My heart sank. I wouldn't likely see him for a few more days, then. I had spent some of it sleeping, like a baby. My temper reared up, and I foggily kicked at the table leg, but all I got for my efforts was a sore toe.

I looked about, and saw one of the twins with a maid, but I couldn't tell which one it was from across the room. He had his arm around her waist and they left through the far door of the hall. A stab of jealousy punctured my young breast, and I felt my temper rise even higher. I stood from the table . I should go to my own rooms. It wasn't fitting to be seen snoring out here like a common soldier, I thought sourly.

I made my way through the darkened hallways when my eye fell upon a door. Suddenly, I felt like spreading my ill temper around, and I entered without knocking.

The room was dark, but I could tell that she was there. Asleep in her bed as she ought to be, but somehow that irritated me. There was one person in Rohan who didn't fawn all over me, and that was a source of constant annoyance to me. I made it my mission to pay her back in kind. "Wake up!" I shouted, my voice startlingly loud in the quiet.

Feowine sat up as quickly as I knew she would. "What? Fengel? What is it?"

"I am bored. Do something," I couldn't resist the smile that crept over my face at seeing her so startled.

To her credit, she just sat there, and didn't let her temper get the better of her. That was part of what bothered me about her, although I would have tattled on her had she done anything, so she was really stuck.

"You startled me. It is the middle of the night. What do you require?" She was speaking slowly, aware of the possible hazards that fatigue was having upon her brain.

"I _said, _Dimwit, that I am bored. Do something." I crossed my arms and waited. Maybe if she had to come up with something it would be more interesting. There might be a good use for her after all.

"What do you want? A story?" Feowine's voice was calmer than she probably was. I usually was a bully to her, despite being two years younger. She was small for her age, and unforgivably, a girl. No one paid her a bit of mind in the male dominated Edoras, and being the favorite, I got away with a lot of grievances towards her. Everyone knew it, but as my father didn't much like Feowine himself, everyone indulged me. This allowed me enormous leeway, and I had yet to find a boundary I couldn't cross. I was really starting to get creative.

"What kind of story could you come up with?" I scoffed. "You're just a girl!"

She sighed. "As you so eagerly remind me every chance you get, Brother. Perhaps I would surprise you. I have knowledge of some tales that you might like. Some tales of the Valar."

My eyebrows shot up in the dark. "How know you of the Elvish tales?" I was interested in spite of myself.

"I can read, you know. We have an extensive library, if you would but take a moment from your many knightly pursuits to peruse it," she offered tentatively.

I snorted. "No way! That is what you are here for, to tell me the stories, and cook for me. To wait on me in all the ways I want you to!"

"I am not your maid, Fengel. I am a Princess, too, as much as you don't want to admit it." Feowine's voice trembled a little in the darkness.

I could make out her form sitting up in her bed. When I think back, I don't know why I hated her so much. I had no reason, other than I suppose it is the way of siblings. Perhaps it is bred within to want to stamp out all competition. I was so young to feel such rancor! I took a few steps forward. "You will wait on me, Feowine, because I say so! No one here will help you. Father loves me best. Me! Not you, he can't even stand you at all. So you do what I say, or I will...do something terrible to you!" And with that, I whirled out of her room, and stomped into my own, satisfied that I had disturbed her sleep for the whole night, and I found that I could sleep quite peacefully enough on my own now.


	3. Chapter 3

The Ballad of Fengel

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: This all belongs to the great J.R.R. Tolkien

Those were, indeed, the golden years of my youth. Everything seemed tinged with prosperity, and I grew into a handsome lad, strong and able. There was a blush of fertility upon the land, and it seemed that we had never enjoyed such a run of good and easy times in Rohan. But, alas, as we all know, the fates must turn their fickle faces aside at some point, and our time was fast approaching. The good days were not destined to last forever, and when they went bad, they went bad as fast as they possibly could, in a spectacular fury of destruction that left all in it's wake stunned and breathless. Here, through the veil of years I sit, an old man now, and I still feel the coldness of that summer, the stunned grief of fortune's fast reversal that left me alone and broken in the aftermath.

The day my life unraveled was a day like any other, as beautiful as the one before, the heavens heedless as always of the plight of mortals. There was not a cloud in the sky to mar the passage of the great sun to it's inevitable destination. A slight breeze stirred to cool the skin of the men as we trained in our art of war. I was a boy no more, but nearly a man now, as I had seen fifteen summers. I was strong from wielding the sword, and almost as tall as I would be in the fullness of time.

I remember the warning shouts of the sentry posted upon the walls of a stranger approaching, and tracking his progress with my own eyes. His pace was fast, and he shot straight and true to our gates upon his lathered horse. All eyes were on him, unworried, but curious. He was a messenger, sent to see the king, he said. From Gondor.

This was new and different in a time of peace, but we had had visitors from Gondor before, and there was no reason to panic. Perhaps someone was ill, or there was news of great joy to be shared. Not one of us thought anything terrible was about to be revealed. The messenger was shown to the King's throne room in Edoras, and we resumed our sport.

A short time later, the captain of the guard appeared. "You are to gather in the courtyard. There is to be an announcement."

We glanced around curiously at each other.

"Make yourselves presentable, you louses! It is the king himself who is to be addressing you!" He shouted. "Now make way!" The captain, who went by the name of Hallas, motioned me and the twins over. "Your Highnesses," he bowed. "the King has asked me to have you attend him in the Great Hall before he addresses the troops. If you would be so kind?" Hallas gestured, but we were men of action, and did not need an escort. Our curiosity was now piqued, and the three of us fairly flew up the hill.

Our father was pacing before his throne, and when he saw us, he stopped. "My sons, I have news. As you have no doubt seen for yourselves, we have had a man from Gondor." Father began pacing again and fell silent. We waited.

Always the most impatient, I spoke first. "Well, what of it? That is not so very unusual, is it?"

The King stopped again. This was most unlike him. "He bears news of a troubling nature. The Haradrim of South Gondor have invaded South Ithilien. Gondor has called for aid. We will honor the terms of the Oath of Eorl, and answer. It is time to muster the Rohirrim."

My heart leapt. Long had I wanted to prove myself in battle, and in these peaceful times, it was becoming an unlikely scenario. Now I had the chance to prove myself worthy of the name Prince!

"There is no doubt that we will answer Gondor's call for aid, and swiftly," Father continued. He looked us each in the eye. "It is our long and proud heritage to be a sister city, and we will not fail to come to the need of our brethren in this mighty tradition, especially when we have relied upon her in times recently past. Here is my concern: I would lead the Eorlingas myself into this battle. I still feel a sting from the Haradrim because of the West-march battle, though they were vanquished by mine own sword, and that was near to an age ago. I would like to see the fear in their eyes as they taste my steel. However," His gray eyes gleamed with regret, "my advisors tell me that this will be an easily won battle, and that it will be a good opportunity for the heirs to earn their glory." Here Father's proud eyes found Folcred and Fastred. They looked back, unwaveringly. "I find that I must quell my thirst for more revenge, and step aside. This is a chance for you to earn your honor on the battlefield, and lead the Rohirrim to war. Will you do me this honor as princes of Rohan?"

Fastred and Folcred never looked so noble as they did at that moment, standing before our father the King in the home of our ancestors, taking the oath to lead our people to war. "I will," they replied, their voices sure in unison. My heart swelled in pride just looking at them.

"Good," My father stepped forth and laid a hand each on their shoulders. "Then we are in good hands. Make ready your horses, and your men, for war! I will go and tell the troops of what is to come."

"Wait, Father," I said, as he turned away. "What of me?"

He turned back, almost as an afterthought. "Ah, Fengel, yes. I will require your counsel here. You may return to your training, as you see fit." He made to leave.

"Wait!" I shouted at his back, desperately. I couldn't believe that I was being thwarted out of my only hope of seeing action. This was not happening, it couldn't be! I ran at my father, hoping to grab his attention for one more word, but I should have known better. He was the king, after all, and he was already surrounded by people needing something of him, begging his attention, asking some question. It was impossible to get through the wall of people who had suddenly materialized.

Xxxxxx

It only took one full day to get the entire army of horse lords organized for war. This was our business, after all, and what we had endlessly been training for. They were ready to leave almost immediately, and because it was the real thing, and not for show or a state occasion, there was no fanfare. We all just lined up, silently, to farewell the men.

I felt like an old woman, or a babe. The mutinous feeling welled up in my chest, and the resentment of it nearly choked me. I had been made to stand next to Feowine, and only the fact that Father was directly next to me kept me from physically lashing out at her in my misplaced anger. Still, I couldn't stop myself from maliciously grasping a few tufts of her hair that were peeking out of her wimple and yanking them until they came free in my hand. She winced silently and bit her lip, but bore the pain in stoic silence. I smiled and opened my fist to let the strands of honey blond hair drift free on the breeze.

The army rode by us, led by the princes Fastred and Folcred. They were positively luminous in the sunlight, with their matching blond hair gleaming lustrously, they almost blinded us with their noble bearing. They raised their swords, as was custom, as they passed through, and as was also custom ,we were silent in our respectful reverence. Every heart there swelled in pride at the sight of them, though, leading the pride of Rohan, the mighty Rohirrim, and they were the stuff of legend that day as they passed through the gates of our city.

As the last man cleared the wall, the twins raised their horns, and blew two clear notes, as only twins who have a connection can do. It was eerie how it hung on the air, so clear and loud, as if time had paused to honor the moment, and then their call "Forth Eorlingas!" the battle cry of the Rohirrim for untold centuries that now brought so much splendor to our collective heart, and then they were galvanized to action. Their horses spurred, the picture broken, they were gone over hill in but a moment, off to Gondor.

Xxxxxx

Life had a different cadence to it without the men who usually inhabited the halls. Their presence was felt, but those of us left behind struggled to carry on as we always had, keeping our thoughts to ourselves. I tried to keep the ritual of my days the same, and so it was that I was in the lists, like I always was, when I first heard the sentry's cry.

With that cry- a cry of warning? A cry of terrible foreknowledge?-the days of Rohan were altered forever. The contingent that was sighted was indeed the men returning home, but not victorious. Hallas was in the lead, and they traveled slowly, it seemed, in contrast to the striking exit they had made from the city but a few weeks earlier. By the time their grim process had reached the gates, all who dwelled within were ready to welcome them home and it was with shocked eyes that we saw how few had returned.

Confusion reigned as people tried to see who was still alive, who was wounded, and the unthinkable worst alternative. Cries were heard all around as loved ones were found-or not.

I knew from the fact that Hallas was in the lead that something was not as it should be. The twins should have led the men home, so they must have been wounded in battle. I tore into the fray of bodies, looking for a glimpse of platinum hair. Nothing so distinctive stood out. I darted in and out, the chaos growing around me. Fewer had returned than expected. There must be another group. That was the answer.

I tried to find my way to Hallas, he would explain to me, but the crowd was growing wild. There was such a wild mix of mud, men, bodies, screaming, it was too much in one spot, and the area threatened to break out into violence. I was stuck firm in the middle of a mass of rioting bodies, the feeling of panic creeping up on me. I had to find my brothers!

"Silence!" My father's low voice rang out over his people like a tonic poured upon the water, and they calmed almost immediately. "Please, good people of Rohan, calm yourselves. We welcome home our heroes today. I see that there are less here than set out. Where are my sons?"

Hallas stepped forward. He was streaked with dirt from his travels, and still wearing armor. "My Lord, may I speak with you?"

The king nodded slowly. There was still utter silence. "You may, Captain. Speak freely here, in front of the whole of our city. They want to know the truth of the battle. We are all assembled now, what better time for the truth to be heard?"

Hallas cleared his throat. He waited a moment, and looked up at the sky, as in supplication. I heard a roar, and wanted to put my hands over my ears. I knew, from somewhere outside of myself, that this was a terrible moment. My head started shaking back and forth of it's own accord, the noise of the ocean in my ears. I didn't want to hear this man's words.

"They fell, My King." His voice broke.

I felt my heart stop. This news could not be true! My vision grew black around the edges. I felt my knees buckle, and only the press of bodies around me kept me from falling. The breath hissed between my teeth, and I forced myself not to feel. Get up, get up, I told myself, blinking back the hated wetness. Don't let these peasants see you weak! You must not break in front of them. Look to your king!

My father's face grew pale, and then the jaw clenched so tight that I could see it from as far down the hill as I was. He took a breath. "Both?" His voice was almost steady.

Hallas merely nodded.

My father stared out over the horizon a moment, what youthfulness he had yet possessed drained like blood from his face. He grew, right before the eyes of the subjects of his kingdom, into an old man. As he stood, the light left him, and he seemed grayer and more lined. It was as if a spell had been cast, but an evil, terrible one, not the kind that you read about in the fairytales. This was all too real. Our king was dead. It was just on the inside. He squared his shoulders, and the only thing keeping him upright from the deathblow to his soul was the keen bite of duty.

"What of the other men? How many casualties?"

Hallas reported the statistics of battle, and we all listened. The treacherous Haradrim had laid a trap in Ithilien, and most of the casualties were in the Battle of the Crossings of Poros. Many factions had been called in to vanquish the foe, who had eventually been driven off. To honor the debt paid most deeply by King Folcwine, the Steward of Gondor, Turin II had sent a full weregild of gold. It appeared the Haradrim had been carrying a treasure trove of gold, and most of it was sent to us in the recognized debt. The crowd gasped at the unprecedented generosity of Turin II.

Hallas finished up. "...he bade us partake of the celebretory feast, but we declined, instead preferring to hasten home with our victorious dead. 'Twould be a dishonor to make merry with our House now in morning. Turin then gave us our reward, saying that you have paid the dearest price of freedom that can be paid, and you are most commended and welcomed as any man in Middle Earth for it."

"As are we all here today who have lost a loved one in defense of our land," King Folcwine answered. "Come, let us bear this grief together as we prepare our men for the Halls of the ForeFathers. There is a great sadness in our land tonight, and we must find comfort in each other."

At the last part, just before he turned away, the King's eyes sought out mine in the crowd, and held. There was a flash of something there, of what, I couldn't say, but then he had turned and was leaving the people to the work of tending the ill and sorting the dead from the living.

I was able to walk away from the throng on shaking legs, but I quickly found myself surrounded by a new set of bodies, and I looked up in surprise. The palace guard was there. They had never paid me much mind before. "What?"

The one closest to me spoke up. "Highness? You must come to Edoras. You are the Crown Prince now. We are to protect you."

I was reeling. The very idea that I was now the crown prince had escaped me. The idea that I needed protecting was ludicrous, but still. As I made my way to Edoras, I could feel a chill in my heart and in the air. My childhood had died with my brothers at the Battle of the Crossings of Poros. A new day was dawning.


	4. Chapter 4

The Ballad of Fengel

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: This all belongs to the great J.R.R. Tolkien. Although he would never claim this story!

Rating: Okay, there has been a change, just to be safe, to M, for scenes of implied incest, non-con, and violence against women. I just want you to be aware, if you have been reading, that that can be disturbing to some readers, so please be mindful of that.

* * *

The passing of my brothers was a blow my father never thought he would have to bear in his lifetime. It nearly brought him to his knees in grief, but he was a strong man, and an even stronger king. He battled the foe of anguish the way he did everything else; that is to say that he met it head on and did not allow himself to cower under the crushing despair of it all.

Instead, he sent his sons off in the glory which they had earned, choosing to dwell in pride that they had died a warrior's death in battle, which we all aspire to. He deified them, and we moved on.

The halls of Edoras would never recover, but that was not to be dwelt upon. These were new times, and if it felt as if a shadow had fallen over us, well, then, we would feast in the shade. My father had not built his kingdom up to be the finest working establishment under the sun to see it fade because of the tears of an old man. He grimly set his will to what was left to him. And his gaze fell upon me.

I was not ready to let go of my sorrow quite so easily. My brothers were my lifeblood. The tragedy was that both their lives had been cut short, at twenty-seven years they were in their prime when death called on them. I felt lost and without a rudder, completely in shock. All of the fancy words and accolades bestowed upon them rang false to me. Who cared if they died a noble death, they had lived a noble life! Did no one care about that? It mattered not to me if they dwelled forever in the house of our grandfathers if I would never again cross swords with Fastred on the field, or see Folcred nod to me when I mastered a difficult move. Who would understand me? Who would guide me? All was lost. It lay buried in two mounds of earth. The most vibrant of lives, reduced to gentle slopes covered in flowers, as if they had not even existed.

The pain was not just in my heart, it was a fog that had settled over me like a miasma, threatening to suffocate me. I stumbled through life, but I couldn't bring myself to see anything that I was doing. Everywhere I looked, I saw absence. Everything I saw, I beheld loss.

My father was finally made aware of my struggle and called me to him. He cleared the hall so that we were alone. I felt his eyes upon me, piercing me, as if he could see everything. He sighed. "My son. Fengel. Do you not think that I, too, have a heavy heart? This is the will of the Valar. You must rejoice that your brothers have served their purpose and died in the way that brought them to their destiny. Lay aside your troubled mind and look to your future. This brooding does you ill."

Horrified, I felt the lump that seemed to be ever present in my throat grow from an ache to an overwhelming pain, and hot tears started to well. I tried to sniff inconspicuously, but I fear I failed, and the resulting anger helped me master myself. Interesting. Anger was an effective antidote to this crippling weakness of pain. I filed that piece of news away for later and concentrated on redeeming my own honor in front of my father. It was fast sliding away from me, and I could hardly conjure the words to defend myself. For the first time in my life, I was at a loss. I batted roughly at my drippy nose.

"Fengel, you are my only son and heir. You must find it in yourself to do your duty. I understand your feeling of desolation. I too, share it." My father gestured a little helplessly. "You must know that whatever your personal feelings, you must be a man now and get a hold of yourself for the sake of your people. They look to you now, to us, to see how we bear our burdens in these difficult times. They must see strength as the template, so that they may mold their own character into the vision of that which they wish to become." Father looked hard at me. "You may be as heartbroken as you want, but only in here." He reached over and tapped my breast. "To the world you will present the ideal. Otherwise we will crumble."

I looked back at my father, my king, and I saw that he believed all of the noble truths that he lived by. That was what had made him so beloved by both his subjects and his neighboring peers all of these long years. He was a fool, I decided suddenly, the resentment rising like bile, too bitter to swallow back down. Once I saw it, I couldn't deny the vision any longer, and it was before me in every line of his face, every gray hair on his head, which had previously endeared me to him. A sham! Those same lies had sent my brothers to their deaths, and they were buried in the cold ground for his notions of a better kingdom.

I would not be taken in so easily. A crafty gleam entered my eye. I shoved the sadness down, deep down, somewhere inside where it lodged like a dark glittering stone. I could almost feel a pit there, but now I could breathe, and think of other things. The new me was here. Father was right. The time had come to talk of other things; the future. But it would cost him to do so.

"I am the Crown Prince." I said these first words flatly, without a tremor in my voice.

If my father was surprised by the seemingly unrelated topic my words brought forth, he only raised his eyebrows a bit. Perhaps he thought I was reaffirming my status to him and myself. "Yes. The one and only."

"Yet you have not declared it in formal ceremony. When are you planning on naming me your heir?" I stared him down.

The King blanched, unprepared. "I...uh..." He was floundering, something I had never had the occasion to witness. "I may be misunderstanding the situation. You...require proof of your line of ascendancy? In formal ceremony? While we are a country in mourning for your brothers' deaths? Perhaps I did not hear you correctly!" By the end of his speech, his eyes had gone round, and his voice from stilted and incredulous to louder and angry.

I did not back down from his bluster, but stood quietly and let the little voice inside me guide my actions. The little hard knot that I didn't want to think about seemed to have incredible power and energy. It had been grief, but now it seemed to be a force that just wanted to inflict pain on others, in the highest price possible. After all, I had had my heart ripped out, why shouldn't everyone around me suffer in kind? I may not be allowed to cry, but I would extract my revenge in kind. Perhaps I could have fun with this. The ways were many for this sort of sport, if you had a creative mind and nothing to lose.

I let an unfamiliar smirk creep over my mouth. The insolence fairly radiated off of me. "I am entitled to what is mine. If I am next in line to the throne, I will have my due. You will treat me as the prince that I am." I said this calmly, gauging his reaction.

The king's eyes fairly bugged out of his head. "You...little...!" He appeared to be speechless. "I thought that the reason for your lackluster these few weeks hence was melancholy over your brothers' demise! I cannot credit the absolute cheek of it!" He fell silent. "You know, this does not do your character one bit of credit at all, Fengel, not an ounce," he began pacing and talking to himself, but to my surprise, the anger had leached from his voice and was replaced by consideration. "However, I have to confess myself astounded by the position you have placed me in. You, a mere whelp of a boy, dare to order his king into an advantageous position, favorable to you and second highest in the kingdom, witnessed by the entire public, a few scant weeks after the murder of your closest kin? It is brilliant, if depraved of you. You have the makings of a very strong ruler, politically, if not emotionally."

I stood stock still, letting only my eyes follow him. The little boy who hung on every word of his was gone, replaced by this cold stranger. I could feel the change in me as surely as if I was a whole different person. It mattered not to me what transpired here, I was merely marking time. I felt dead on the inside. Couldn't anyone see it?

The king stopped his pacing. "All right, Fengel, you have a point. I am not merely accepting you as my heir, I am proud of it. Although we are still officially in mourning, I will give you the ascension proclamation you so desire, and I will declare it immediately, but we will forgo a formal feast. Will that suit?"

"Nothing less, Your Majesty." I clicked my heels, bowed, and left him standing there. He could shove the whole thing up his arse, I thought, my jaw clenched, but there was an interesting lesson to be learned from this. I pondered the vagaries of human nature as I made my way to my bed chamber. It seems that I had crossed an unforgivable line, and yet I walked out a victor in some battle I hadn't even known I was fighting. This bore thinking on. Perhaps the way to getting what one wanted was by simply reaching out your hand and taking it...and just not caring any more about anything.

As was so often the case, I felt the need for a release of tension, and in casting about, I came up empty of targets save one. My feet seemed to know their course before my head did, and before I realized it, I was at the door to my sister's chamber door. I mockingly knocked, as if that would be enough to deny me entrance should I choose to enter. Then I impatiently flung the door open anyway, not waiting for her admittance.

Feowine was there, as she always was. Indeed, she was a woman of seventeen now, but she was so meek she rarely left her chambers. The last time I had seen her for any length of time had been at the funeral. She was embroidering a piece of fabric, and she couldn't help looking startled at my sudden presence. She nervously clutched the linen in her hand, and I noticed a drop of blood bloom across the white where she had inadvertently pricked herself with the needle. She didn't appear to notice it at all when faced with the greater threat that I presented, but I was fascinated by the spread of the stain. The darkness of the blood contrasted with the delicate beauty of the stitches, and it spilled over, tainting it all irrevocably. The omen it presented made my lips curve in a smile.

"Leave," I growled at the one woman keeping her company, and the maid jumped up and rushed out without a question, slamming the door behind her. Feowine was frozen.

"Don't you rise to your feet when your ruler comes in the room, my sister?" I asked, my voice a deceptive purr. My eyes bore malice into hers.

Feowine recognized the antipathy directed at her. Always she had been able to appease me, but she sensed today was different. Her eyes were round in her thin face. "Would that make you happy, little brother?" Her voice was quiet, but she rose on shaky legs I could see from across the room.

"There is nothing little about me!" I crossed the room in three strides and towered over her. "As you shall soon see for yourself, _Sister_," I sneered.

At my words, true fear crossed Feowine's face. "What do you mean to do, Fengel? Always I have done your bidding, but I am not your slave."

"Shut up, Bitch!" The rage that rose up in me was blinding, and I wanted to strangle her. For a minute, I was shaking with suppressed rage, and all I could see was red. How dare she question me, my right to do as I wished? I could do what I wanted in this world, there was no one to stop me, least of all her!

I backhanded her across the face, and she went reeling, as easily as if I had knocked a child down. I may be two years younger, but she was especially slight of build, and I was particularly robust, and spent all my days in physical labor. She was mere fluff to me. She didn't stand a chance. The sight of her sprawled on the ground just annoyed me more, though. "Get up!"

She warily got to her feet, and I saw that her lip had split like an overripe fruit, the blood trickling down her chin. It reminded me of the sewing. She reached her hand up to wipe it away, but I grabbed her wrist before she could touch her face. Her bones were as fragile as a birds wing in my grasp. I could snap them with just a little more pressure.

I wasn't a sadist, however. I was stuck by the tableau of her skin, with the blood and the bruise forming. All of a sudden, I was overwhelmed by a hunger I didn't know I possessed, and I leaned down to kiss her. She was as still as a statue underneath me, and I tasted her lips, the swelling making them lush, and the blood adding a metallic taste that I was intoxicated by. I wanted more, I wanted to consume her, and I kissed her as deeply as I had anyone else before. My tongue demanded entrance, and it danced across her teeth, and delved the moist, warm recesses within.

I didn't care, or even notice, that Feowine was rigid with fear and revulsion at my assault upon her. I was not tender, and surely she was virginal, but at that moment I was unmindful of anything but sensation, and I was giddy with it. I plundered her, and only came to my senses when the aggravated blood flow from the split lip became too noticeable to ignore.

I broke from her, a little muddled at the spell I had been under. I stumbled away, and realized that I had been clutching her to me as I would a lover. She also stumbled back at the sudden loss of support, not meeting my gaze. I couldn't work out what had just happened. This was not right, of that I was sure. You were not supposed to be doing-or _wanting _to do that- with your sister. That was a crime. That was unnatural. I turned on my heel and left as abruptly as I had come.

As I made my way back to my own room, the thoughts whirled in my brain. Was I monstrous? The idea that I had done something morally wrong made a bad feeling, guilt, rise up somewhere in the depths of my belly. This was an unfamiliar sensation. I quashed it. It must not be so. As Crown Prince, I was not accountable to the same reasoning as others. I could have what I wanted. Isn't that how it worked? Wasn't that what always happened? After all, I risked my life for the people, I gave my life in servitude for them. The payoff was that I got to make my own rules. So it had always been for me.

Satisfied, I got ready for bed, the niggling conscience assuaged. Feowine had better watch herself. She had better look out double, now. The world was my oyster, and I was going to make sure that I got what I wanted, one way or another.


	5. Chapter 5

The Ballad of Fengel

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: This all belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Rating: M

* * *

The flavor of my days changed as I became the heir. No more was I unaccountable for myself; I now had responsibilities to the crown. My days of mucking about and playing with swords were, if not completely gone, then greatly reduced. I was suddenly required to sit in on meetings and councils, my presence needed at gatherings and summits. I could think of nothing quite so boring after having been allowed to run free my whole life, and I made my displeasure known to one and all. I do believe that in those early days I was quite an embarrassment to my father, and not a little thorn in his side. Still, he bore the burden of me stoically and without complaint, determined to turn me into a ruler of renown.

I did extract my revenge in the most petty and youthful of ways, by being a boor in the meeting of warlords and chiefs. I threw as many tantrums as I could muster, being a general pest and upsetting the hall with my antics, but there seemed to be some sort of agreement to ignore me. I realized that I was only embarrassing myself, and I grew silent, looking for new ways to bedevil people. When I opened my ears, I began to learn. I heard of border disputes and quibbles over cattle and thievery. The tales didn't vary much, after you began to listen for awhile, but they demanded patience and a diplomatic resolution. I began to grow interested, not in the plight of the people, but how we may turn the situation to our profit. I came up with some ideas.

This position I found myself in, one of power, was a good one to be in, I realized. I had no idea that the general population had so little control of what was happening in their own lives. To be frank, it sounded perfectly miserable to be a peasant. And my father, instead of taking advantage, was sitting here and nodding his head, stroking his beard, just letting the situation flow around him without opening his eyes to all that could be done! Why, he might be charging these people for the luxury of taking up his time to ask his advice! What about the taxes, were there any taxes at all, on anything? It seemed not. I would surely need to talk to him about this.

With the wheels turning in my brain, I could think of hundreds of ways of filling up our coffers. I scheduled a meeting with him and presented my ideas.

King Folcwine listened patiently to my thoughts and smiled. "You are an eager young man. I am glad to see you taking an interest in your kingdom, Fengel. This is good, very good. However, the ideas that you have presented are not as beneficial to the people as they are to us. That makes them suspect. You must always ask yourself as a ruler: what is the motive? For whom do I do what I do? If not for the betterment of the subjects for which your represent, then it is best to think of another way." He stood to indicate our meeting was over. "I am pleased that you are so interested in economy, however. The best way to get to know your people is to interact with them. I encourage you to visit the locals. Never be afraid to go into the towns and visit with the men of Rohan. That is my advice to you, Son."

As he walked away, I could not hide the curl of disgust that pulled my lip. He wanted me to sully myself with the peasantry of Rohan? What was he thinking? The old fool was losing his grip on sanity. It was good that he had me to replace him. He was going soft in his old age. I would change things around here, make no mistake.

* * *

Things continued without much excitement. The seasons came and went, I grew into true manhood. By the time I had reached my twentieth birthday, I felt as if I had been born to this leadership role all along. I had become my father's right hand man. I was aware of the murmurs of discontent about the prominent role that I played in governing. I was not well liked among either the people of Rohan or the counselors surrounding my father.

This troubled him more than it did me. I was not bothered at all; it was mere jealously. After all, you can not suppress a people for your own gain and expect them to thank you for it, can you? Of course, my father was blind to my faults, and I kept it that way. He still ruled his kingdom with a fair and just hand, but when I got a chance to, I made sure things went _my _way. There was a trick to it all, you just had to take what you wanted and keep a smile on for the man who was watching you. You could get away with just about anything you wanted, if you played your cards right. And if people didn't like it, well, then, they just hadn't learned the game for themselves yet.

I was on my way to the Golden Hall right now after having finished up some business in town. I detested having to go out amongst the locals, but I had found in the last few years that fear was a great motivator. Once I realized that, my jobs became so much easier. At first, in my youthfulness, I must confess I had been inelegant in my methods. I had relied much more on physical threats. However, I have in the intervening years discovered the joys of the implied threat, which is so much more effective.

You can see the idea taking purchase in the little brain, the seed of fear finding purchase and implanting like a poisonous vine. The tendrils can't help but wind around and the trepidation creeps and binds them more physically than I ever could. It is quite a sight to see, as visceral as any punch to the gut could be. Then the eyes. They are wide and primal, like the horses we are so famed for. There is a connection we share at this moment, you see. Father wanted this for me, to go out and experience the locals. Well, here we are. There is no better way for us to know each other than on this most basic level.

The house I just came from was the blacksmith's. I was to ask about the commission of new shoes for the entire stable of new geldings. This was to be a negotiation on my part, but I handled it in my own way. Also, the Blacksmith's daughter now is short her virtue, but that matter is already nearly forgotten as I leave the hovel. At least she was a virgin, so I won't catch the pox. I stride towards the Golden Hall and leave the rabble behind in the dust, where they belong.

My father is waiting for my report, and I throw him a small pouch. He catches it in surprise, almost missing it. My eyes narrow. He is getting old.

"What is this?" He asks, opening the cloth bag, which had, frankly, seen better days.

I threw myself on my own chair and speared an apple on the end of my dagger. "Payment to you," I said negligently, taking a bite.

"Whatever for? Didn't you go to the smithy today? We are to commission him for the shoes, not the other way around." My father looked confused.

I waved the apple around as I ate. "He wanted to show you how well he is prospering this year, and how honored he is to do business for you. He will not take payment of any kind, instead, he insists on giving you tithe for the services you render him. He will happily do this task for you, at no charge."

King Folcwine just stared. "That cannot be. We are a wealthy kingdom, to be sure, but no man is that rich. Surely, there was some mistake. Go give the man his money back. He has a family to support. I know him, and know him well. He cannot afford this pride!"

"Father." I sat up and looked him in the eye. "Don't be silly. He did offer it. Not just offered it-insisted! You would insult him and injure his pride to refuse his gift. Imagine, the king, saying that his blacksmith's money is not good enough for us! Just take it and be happy that we are fortunate to have subordinate subjects."

The king looked unsure. "Yes, well, you make a point. Pride is a prickly thing here. I don't know what would lead Doneth to make such a rash gesture, with winter coming, but I suppose I cannot offend the man." He set the little bag on the table thoughtfully, fingering the worn cloth bag. "Yes, well, Fengel, I called you here about a matter. Not a small matter."

The change in his tone made me wonder what was on his mind. I did not alter my posture from the casual, but my ears perked up. "Yes, what is it?"

"I regret that I did not think ahead in the years before your brothers' deaths. I see now that I was much too lenient in...domestic matters. I left the choice of brides far too long, and I will not make the same mistake in your case. We cannot afford to wait as long for you. It is time for you to wed." His last few words came out in a rush.

I nearly flew out of my chair. "What?" I spluttered. My face had to be turning red. Past red, now purple, with rage. "How dare you try and tie me down? I won't be dictated to be some...whey faced chit! It's preposterous!"

"Listen, no one is saying that you must be 'tied down', Fengel. First, I have it on good authority that you do, indeed, have an eye for the ladies, correct?" The King's face had to be as red as mine.

"What?!" My screech had to be louder and shriller than a fishwife's at this point. Hopefully Feowine hadn't been telling any tales. "What have you heard?"

"Nothing, nothing," Folcwine was hasty to assure me, looking down. "I just want to be sure that you are...able to do your duty, that's all."

"Able...to...do...my...duty?" I ground out the words, my countenance blackening considerably with every word. He may be my father, and the king, but no man implied what I thought he may be implying. My eyes were as narrowed as they dared be, and my hands were clenching and unclenching.

"Oh, stop this nonsense!" Folcwine bit out irritably. "I don't mean that you aren't a man, for the love of the Eldar! It is just not unheard of for some men to prefer other men, as I am sure you are well aware! I am just asking as a matter of course, not because I think it of you! You can do whatever you like in your private time, for all it matters to me, as long as you are able to get an heir on your wife. Or several heirs," he looked hard at me, "and after that, I don't care what you prefer. You can dunk your rod in a whole host of barnyard critters, as long as you procure your heritage."

I took some breaths to calm down. "I can manage to produce the heirs you require," I managed to grit out.

"Good, good!" He came over and poured a cup of ale for himself, and another for me. He shoved one into my hand and patted me on the back. I was still unresponsive, so he toasted himself and drank, then wiped his beard with his sleeve. "I have sent envoys to the old alliances, but really the choice in bride is yours."

"I don't give a damn. I don't want this." I was petulant.

"Oh, stop it. She's merely a brood mare. Get a son or three on her, then never look at her again. That is the way of it. You don't need to talk to her. You just need to dip your wick in her. How hard is that?" My father took another drink.

I knocked back the ale all in one pull, not stopping until the cup was drained. Then I slammed the goblet down on the table with enough force to leave a mark. "It isn't going to be hard for me at all." I said with determination in my voice.

My father gave me an uneasy look. "Good, I knew you would see reason."

If I was being forced into an alliance, it wouldn't be me who had a difficult time of it. Of that I was certain.


	6. Chapter 6

The Ballad Of Fengel

Chapter 6

Disclaimer:This all belongs to J.R..

Rating: M for implied incest, implied non-con

* * *

I gaze out now, over the same landscape I have stared at for so many years. It is familiar, but instead of comforting me as it usually does, it seems to mock me. For centuries those same mountains and sky have stood watch over the hapless doings of men, implacable and ambivalent, whilst we stumble about in our miseries and woes. We could slaughter and cry, the ground running red with blood, and the mountains remain as immovable,as impassive to our plight as ever before. This was always calming to me, but now I wonder at it, I feel the wings of panic rise in my withered breast. Are we so impermanent as to mean nothing? Time is so cruel, in a blink we are but dust. The mountains will endure long past caring.

My rheumy eyes stray past the broad plain of Rohan and rise up to the range of the White Mountains in the distance. A man could ride for days before he reached the foothills of those far off peaks, though they seemed close enough to touch almost, here from the towers of Edoras. The Golden Hall with the golden view. I could see a glimpse of the Snowbourn, where it glittered and ran through the valley of Harrowdale. Just a bit of it was visible, where a bend in the river must have taken it near enough to be seen.

I was an old man with nothing but regrets, nothing left to do but look out at the scenery. Today was clear enough for me to make out the snow capped peaks of Starkhorn, and if I squinted, I might even be able to see Irensaga, but maybe that was just my imagination. The way the light was slanting, it made me remember the day, waiting in this same place, waiting for my bride...

* * *

After it was it was obvious that I would do nothing to aid my father in the choice of a bride, it was left to him to do the job for me. He begged and pleaded for me to take an interest in the choosing, but I refused. He narrowed the candidates down, but I stubbornly turned my face away from the whole procedure, as if my noncompliance might stave off the inevitable. In the end, he was forced to just pick one, and so he did.

I received his summons one evening, and he characteristically cleared the hall, perhaps to spare himself the embarrassment of the scene he knew I would make. This was the pattern we always fell into, after all, and I had no problems making my demands and my position known to everyone. If he preferred discretion, I figured it was on his head to secure it. I was not about to suffer in silence for his modesty.

"Well?" I sulked.

"Fengel," My father looked at me as disapprovingly as he could manage. "You are a man. Act like one. We have been through this. I am letting you know that I dispatched the messenger this afternoon with the betrothal seals. You are married, by proxy, as of today. The official ceremony will take place upon your bride's arrival here, but it is done. What say you?"

Although I had expected his words, I couldn't help the feeling that poured over me, like coldness that seeped into my bones, a slippery oil that seemed to coat me and make me want to wriggle away. I felt like gulping to get fresh air. "Well, what's to say? I had little choice in the matter, as you well know!" I could hear the accusatory tone in my own voice, and resolved to attack this from a different angle.

Father winced. "Fengel, you are simply unreasonable! By the Valar! I will say about you that when you set your will, you are a determined lad!" He ran his hand through his hair, and chuckled. "Are you not a little curious about the woman who is to be your wife?"

Now it was my turn to wince. "If I must hear about it, and it seems you are intent upon that end, let us drink, at least."

The king appeared relieved, and sat with me. We poured some mead. "There is no way to know, of course, which was the most comely lass. They all lay claim to that, and it could be a pack of lies, and probably is, in my experience. No, you are best to keep your many conquests for sating in that area. Women of superior breeding cannot boast of even passable looks usually, so be not hopeful on that score. The girls put forth were from Dale, Forlond, Esgaroth and the Aldburg at Folde."

I rolled my eyes. "I care not, did you not hear me? One is very much like the next. I am to be...shackled to a wench, and it doesn't matter one whit to me which dusty town she hails from!"

Folcwine continued smoothly as if he had not been interrupted. "I will not bore you with the long process of elimination, and really, they were all good candidates. It was finally decided upon the girl from Dale. She is, in truth, not a Princess. Yet from a good family. She will suit our purposes. Or, rather,_ your _purposes. In truth, Fengel, 'twill not be as bad as you are making this out to be. It has been many a long year since we have had the presence of a Lady here, and it may even be enjoyable to have such a refined person here."

I stilled, and darted a quick look. "What of Feowine? She is a lady." I tried for nonchalance.

Father laughed. "Bah! Feowine! A more useless thing I have never seen. In fact, I had rather forgotten her. She takes her meals in her rooms, and has for years now. I can't remember when I saw her last. Undersized, timid...I could hardly marry her off. I fear she is feeble minded, as well. A lady in title, never in spirit. I never had a use for her, though. Thankfully she doesn't ask for much." He took a drink and eyed me. "Whatever made you think of her?"

I shrugged. "I was just saying that we have a female here. We hardly have need for another."

"Yes, well, perhaps your wife will be good for her."

I grimaced. Wife. Those words did not sit well with me. I did not take well to being forced into doing what I didn't want to, and this definitely fell into that category. I felt a heat build up inside me, first in my stomach, and then as my temper steadily grew, it fell into my loins. I noticed that, these days. When I got upset about something, or too angry to think, it was registering in other areas. More...pleasant ones. I stood abruptly, surprising my father.

"Yes, well, now I know more than I could possibly want to about this...appendage that I am being forced to acquire, so I will go now. Thank you for your enlightening talk. Good evening." I bowed stiffly, due to my hopefully unnoticeable condition, and turned away. As I left, my father called out.

"Don't you even want to hear the girl's name?"

"Not in the slightest," I shot back.

I could still hear him as I reached the hall. "I wish you happiness, my son."

I shook it off, and kept on walking.

* * *

The knock was merely for my own conscience, and not acknowledged, by her or by myself, as it barely had time to be before I burst into her chamber. Feowine was hardly surprised, as this had become a somewhat standard occurrence over the years, with increasing frequency. I strode in and directly to her, where she was sitting curled in the window seat with a book on her lap. She had to tilt her head back to look up at me, and I saw only a question there, and calm, not the fear I always wanted to inspire and that I strove for.

"Brother." Her voice was unruffled. "What brings you here to me? You seem troubled."

I was unable to be still, fairly twitching with suppressed ire. "You see before you a married man."

"Ah, yes, I might have guessed." Feowine tried to hide a smile, but did not entirely succeed. This only fed my irritation.

"Father spoke of you just now," I bit out, knowing her weakness.

The smile fell from her face.

"Yes, that's right," I continued, unable to stop the poison falling from my lips. "He thinks you a halfwit, a dullard."

"Oh," relief shone from her eyes. "Yes, I would imagine so." She seemed to let out a breath she had been holding.

My eyes glinted dangerously as I leaned in for the kill. "He wants to marry you off," I lied effortlessly.

She slumped, her gaze showing panic before she veiled it against me. I knew a stab of triumph at having bested her, although I don't know why. In the last year or two, our relationship had evolved into a strange and complicated thing. I resented Feowine, but not with the youthful vigor I once had. She seemed to be the only one with the ability to understand and calm me. I could not credit it, nor did I want to. I wanted to go back to the days of simple hatred. I didn't want to like her. I didn't want her to do anything for me. I sensed I was playing with fire in continuing to interact with her, but I just couldn't seem to leave her alone, either. Maybe it was that I trusted her. Whatever the reason, she was a thorn in my side that I seemed to want to bear, both hating the sting and reveling in agony of it at the same time.

"Listen," I offered contrarily, confident now that I had done my damage, "I talked him out of it. He was deep in his cups. He doesn't even know what he was saying. Trust me." The lies twined around me as easily as a second skin, the gift of the golden tongue I had been born with.

Feowine looked up at me, the hope plain to see in her wide eyes. She wanted to trust me, but she was no fool. She had no one else, and we had played this game before. She pushed the uncertainty aside and smiled. "Thank you, Brother. I would prefer to stay here in Rohan, as I am sure you know."

I lifted a hank of her pale hair. It had a good portion of red in it as well, but it still was gold enough to remind me of our brothers'. She looked so much like them, it was like looking at a picture of them. I brought her hair to my lips and smiled. "Then you know how you can thank me."

* * *

The weather was starting to turn on the day that I stood upon the battlements with the rest of the contingent, waiting. More fools we, I thought bitterly, the brisk air stinging our cheeks and whipping our hair into a frenzy. I blamed the cold air for the burn in my lungs, in my heart, in my eyes.

It was a beautiful day, regardless of my inner turmoil. I could not help but admire the view, no matter how many times I had seen it before. It was a particularly crisp day, and on only a day such as this could you see the peak of Starkhorn in suck sharp relief, as if someone had painted it just for her coming. The thought drew a scowl to my brow. I concentrated on the horizon. There! Like a secret, you could just barely make out the highest snowy tip of Irensaga in the distance, if you knew exactly where to look. I thought of who had taught me that treasure and my scowl blackened. The sting of the past had no quarter here.

"You look mightily pleased, Highness," Vilir, one of the commanders of the guard, and few that I could count amongst my friends, leaned over and commented dryly.

"Yes, well, what is there to be happy about on a day such as this?" I groused. "We are a bunch of fools, standing here, catching our death waiting on some featherbrained female. It begins already."

Vilir had the grace to choke his disbelief behind his helmet. As this was a state occasion, the arrival of my bride, he was in full dress armor. "I would call this autumn weather fair, Majesty. And I respectfully point out that we have been called out to wait but five minutes ago, on the sentry's call that her caravan was sighted just past the Upbourn a scant hour ago. Your wait should be momentary, at best." His tone couldn't hide the merriment that fairly twinkled out from behind the visor.

"Well, I am glad that this situation brings you great amusement at my expense." I was put out, failing to see what everyone was so thrilled about. "If it were your balls on the chopping block, I doubt you'd be warbling such a merry tune."

"Prince, you wound me," and, indeed, he did sound hurt. Vilir and I had been companions since our boyhood days of sword training, the closest thing I had to a friend. "Do you really think I would make merry of your impending doom?"

"Apparently," I huffed.

"You are..." he trailed off.

"Yes?" I asked icily, arching a brow and looking at him for the first time in the conversation.

He swallowed and just stared at me a moment, well aware of who was in charge here. We may be friends, but there was a definite boundary, and he was never to cross it, even in jest. "You are just a strong person," he finished up somewhat lamely, deflated. "Mark me, there they are," he gestured to the south, and there came the party from Dale. "At long last," I thought I heard him mutter sarcastically, but I was distracted.

All of Rohan had turned out for this occasion. It was unprecedented in recent memory, and certainly in current years we had nothing to celebrate, so the entire kingdom lined up to see their new Princess. As the gates were opened, a great cheer went up, and everyone rushed forth to touch what I presumed was the lady's horse. I rolled my eyes.

"Well, she seems popular. A good omen," concluded Vilir optimistically.

"The swine down there wouldn't know a pearl from a pebble, the blockheads." I kept my face frozen in a rictus of a grin that must have been rather hideous. I had a sensation of being outside of myself as the line approached the palace, and I couldn't stop time as she approached. It was all so surreal, but it had to happen, and I don't remember any of the intermediary ceremonies that must have preceded her path to mine. There were always rites and words to be said, nothing could ever just be _done. _All of a sudden, she was before me.

The crowd had hushed, as in acknowledgement of this supreme moment. I gazed upon her, and was briefly stunned, a sensation I didn't often experience. She was breathtaking. Why did no one prepare me for this? Her hair was the most vivid shade of red I had ever seen, not glaring, but vivacious, and alive, as if it had a life of its own. Her skin was the most unusual cream, not blemished, even from the trip, as if she had fallen straight from Iluvatar himself and onto these steps of Edoras to be consumed by me.

I must have been gawking, because she smiled and curtseyed to me. Her green eyes were as emeralds, and it was in that moment that the cliché of it all overwhelmed me. She was surely used to enrapturing men in this way, and I was not amused, nor would I be as easily caught, fawning over her beauty. I may have been caught off guard, but that was the first and last time for that. I allowed boredom to shine through my features, and I yawned as widely as my jaw would crack open.

Her eyes showed her disbelief, and her hurt, and I allowed myself a vicious smile in return. The crowd had gasped a little at my yawn, but the rest of the interplay was too subtle for them to grasp. She saw that I enjoyed goading her, and I saw the spark in those green depths. She had a temper, then? Well, too bad for her. She would learn to quell it or have a rough time of it here. She would find no friends here to complain to about the rough treatment she was about to receive. A mean smile gleamed in my eyes. And rough treatment she _was_ about to receive.

The girl recovered from her curtsey, and we got through the shortest necessary formalities I could possibly endure. My father placed our hand together, promising the public a wedding withing a sennight, and after that, I spun away, leaving her standing there. My duties were accomplished. I had shown up. The rest was for someone else to sort out.


	7. Chapter 7

The Ballad of Fengel

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: This all belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien

Rating: M

Warning: implied incest, implied non-con

* * *

"By the Gods, Boy! I vow I cannot understand you. You are as addled as an old woman, I do swear it. Will you not bed your wife as is your duty? No one can do it for you, you know that?" my father, the king of Rohan, was pacing back and forth in front of me in great consternation.

"I do not need anyone to tell me my duty!" I spat out at him. "And I most certainly don't need help bedding the wench."

"She is not a 'wench', she is your Lady wife, and you most definitely do need to be told your duty, as you have not seen fit to exercise your marital rights as yet!"

I had never seen my father so out of sorts. He was nearly shouting, and his pacing had grown erratic and a little maniacal in his effort to channel his rage. He was a changed man in the days since _she _had come to reside in this hall. All of a sudden, she was not just another chit to be dumped off as a brood mare, but my 'Lady Wife'. She had quite enchanted the entire place with her seemingly endless charms. Well, perhaps not the entire place. I was not moved by her.

Folcwine stopped suddenly and glared at me. "You told me that you did not prefer the lads. Did you think I wouldn't find out? There are still ways for you to accomplish--"

"Father!" I bellowed, enraged. I breathed a few times to regain my temper, fearing I may do the old man some serious damage. My fists were actually clenching at the insult. "I do not prefer men! Why do you keep insisting upon that?" The haze of red in front of my eyes was still before me.

Folcwine stared down his nose at me, doubtful this time, which only served to rankle me more. "Have you actually looked at your bride? Why, no man could resist her! She is a vision of loveliness. If she weren't promised to you, I would have her for myself. She has captured the hearts of every man in this hall--"

"The trollop," I muttered.

"I won't have it! Fengel," Father hefted a sigh, "you are blessed beyond all measure in this. Cannot you open your damned fool eyes and see what is before you? Sealla is the heart of beauty and grace."

"Who?" I asked blankly.

Folcwine threw his hands up. "Sealla! Your wife. Haven't you even spoken to her?"

I took out my pocket knife and began prying at the dirt under my fingernails. That task interested me more than talk of that harlot, and I made sure he got my meaning. After a pause that was nearing rudeness, I looked at him. "No. And she isn't my wife. Yet." I added darkly.

"I explained terms to you. You were married by proxy. She is most assuredly your wife." Father began pacing. "Not that I have known you to be concerned with the proprieties. Suddenly you want a reading of the banns?"

"Whatever. I care not for such matters. I will wait for the ceremony, then I will do my _duty _that you are so concerned about," I sneered.

"Fengel," Father came over and sat beside me, but I childishly refused to look at him. "I would have your word that you would not harm her. She is a nice girl. If you would but _talk _to her for a moment, you might be surprised. Happily so."

I looked him in the eye then, and let him see a bit of my displeasure. "When you made this plan, you did not figure in for the happiness of either of us. We are free until the ceremony. Then she is mine. To do with as I will. That doesn't concern you. I advise you to harden your heart on this matter."

Folcwine spread out his hands. "Fengel, please. I had no choice. You must get married sometime. Surely you see the sense in that. You would torture the poor girl in your anger at me?"

My eyes glinted steel. "I would exercise my 'marital rights' as bestowed by my king. If that is repugnant to her, then that is not my concern. You have to look to your own conscience in that matter."

Father looked at me uneasily, as if he saw me in a new light. "Yes. Well. I suppose there is nothing else to say, then. I would appeal to your mercy, Son. The rest is within your rights as a husband, I suppose. We each of us have our own path to tread."

I tried not to roll my eyes at his attempts to sermonize. "My mercy, you say? I am glad that you reminded me of my sense of that." I tried not to let my words drip with unintended irony; I could feel my father's gaze upon me, reassessing and perhaps finding me lacking. I shoved myself to my feet. "Until the day when I am forced to bind myself forever to that creature," here he winced, "I would thank you to keep your opinions to yourself on this matter. I know which side of the fence you are on."

* * *

My plan was not so much a plan as a general stalling for time, and it did not have the desired effect I was hoping for. In the days leading up to the wedding, I became surlier and less inclined to the idea of marriage, while the girl seemed to be everywhere. She and her retinue were taking over the place. I ended up leaving a room whenever I got settled, refusing to share a space with her. I spent a lot of time in the tilting yard, where, thankfully, women still were not much in evidence. The renewed vigor of my fighting kept anyone from attempting to converse with me, and I spent my days in exercise and combat.

No matter how much I delayed, the time came for the formal ceremony, as promised to the townsfolk. It was an entire day devoted to celebration, and the whole town was closed in reverent holiday spirit. I groaned when I awoke to realize what day it was. No amount of bad graces could get me out of this. I had to live up to my role as Prince.

I got myself ready fairly early, and found the Hall strangely deserted. Everyone was so excited, and they were following all of the old traditions to stave off bad luck and the evil eye, which was apparently lurking around every corner on a wedding day, and needed to be wielded away with complicated protocol. The bride was where the hub of activity seemed to be centered, and as no one appeared concerned about the groom and his bad luck, I was left to my own devices until I was required to speak my vows. I scowled blackly.

As was my wont, when I found myself troubled, my feet seemed to take themselves of their accord to Feowine's rooms. I didn't really expect her to be there, as she was part of the bridal party, so it was with surprise that I discovered her pinning a wimple on when I opened her door. "Feowine!" I didn't like how vulnerable my voice sounded. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Why are you still here?"

Feowine turned, her fingers still pushing the pins into her hair. "Am I covered?" She asked, ignoring my question, and turning in a circle. "The maids are all with Lady Sealla, and I can't let my hair hang out."

I waved my hand in front of myself impatiently. "What of it? I don't have time for women's matters."

"Fengel, I am merely asking you a question, I am not asking you to be my maid." Feowine stopped turning and peered up at me. "Well?"

She was close enough now, and I took the filmy fabric of her wimple between my fingers and rubbed it thoughtfully. "Yes, Sister, you are covered."

Feowine reached up and cupped my cheek with her tiny hand. My breath caught from this gentle, unexpected gesture. "What ails you, Fengel? You are not yourself today."

I snapped out of my reverie and dropped the wisp of cloth from between my fingers. I couldn't feel it anyway. "What do you think? I am being forced into a marriage I don't want!" I waited for Feowine to soothe me like she always did.

"Hmm, yes. You do not like your Lady wife?"

The use of the name made my ire rise. "That bitch? Who would?" I scoffed harshly.

Feowine flinched. She appeared to be thinking something, but bit her tongue. I grabbed her chin, and forced her to look at me. An idea formed in my head. "You are drab. You creep about unseen, unnoticed. You observe much, my little wren. What do you know?"

Feowine froze. I could feel her body go stiff.

"Tell me," I didn't have to threaten, just lower my tone a little. She knew my power already.

"People like her," Feowine whispered. "Everyone likes her. She has made a friend of almost everyone here. No one likes you." She squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of the blow.

I felt empty. This was not shocking, or even that upsetting. People didn't have to like me; they had to obey me. Of course they flocked to beauty, it drew attention like moths to the flame. I had the power, though, so I didn't care one whit. I ultimately owned the object of everyone's desire, so I was even more powerful than I originally planned. I did have to get married. Then I would wreak my revenge. I let go of Feowine. "I knew you were a balm, Sister," I murmured distractedly.

Feowine couldn't keep the puzzlement out of her eyes. "What are you thinking of, Fengel?"

"Nothing that need concern you, dear sister," I whispered to her, almost as an afterthought, then leaned down and captured her lips in a punishing kiss.

Feowine broke away in a display of will that was rarely seen, and, frankly, shocked me. "Is nothing sacred? Today is your wedding day!"

A feral grin lit my features. "All the more reason to get what I want. And right now what I want is you."

Feowine swallowed. "Can you not bend to convention for once in your life? Must you flout everything? This," she spread her hands, as if to indicate us, "is bad enough, but to incur the wrath of your future wife is just foolhardy. Can you not just try for today to follow the rules? For my sake, if not for your own?"

"No." My patience was dwindling, and I did not feel the need to explain my whims to anyone, least of all my subordinate sister. "The rules do not include me. And I follow enough convention as it is by marrying the chit in the first place. My will is my own. Now remove your gown, or I will remove it for you, and it will be unfit for service after I am through with it. Consider that my concession to your 'feelings' on the matter."

Feowine's hands trembled, and I did not miss the paleness of her countenance, but my need was greater than hers, and I took without reserve. When I was finished, I didn't look back, but turned and left her in a heap where she had crumbled from over-use. I shut the door gently behind me. The feeling in my chest was suspicious, and I had to get out of there before it rose up and clouded my judgment. If I was getting soft in my old age, I needed to squelch that right now. I stood in the hallway and clenched my fists until the tide of emotion receded back where it belonged.

* * *

The wedding was uneventful. I showed up and said the words that I was supposed to with no great outward struggle to reveal my inner turmoil. The bride was swathed from head to foot in thick veils, so it was impossible to see what I was getting, but it was sure that her green eyes were snapping fire at me, as I adopted a formal, slightly bored form through out the ceremony. It was not custom for the groom to unwrap his bride in the company of others, so I raised my arm to lead my new wife from the hall of witnesses, and she placed her hand upon it. We departed for our rooms. I must have been losing my edge, for my eyes flickered of their own accord to Feowine. She was standing with the other women, yet not included in the group, her eyes downcast. As if she felt my gaze upon her, she looked up, as startled as a doe in the forest. The gentle pressure of the hand on my wrist reminded me of my destination, and I continued on, away from my sister and onward to my duty.

Finally alone for the first time in weeks, the heavy door to the bridal suite clanged shut behind us, barely concealing the noise of the well wishers lingering outside. The hinges had hardly had time to be still before the woman next to me dropped her hand from my arm as if she had been scorched and spun away. She ripped away the gauze wrappings, her chest heaving.

I will admit, she made a spectacular sight. Her red hair was disheveled, her eyes sparking fire at me. Lips slightly parted, her skin was flushed with anger and she looked ready for a long night of bed sport. I crossed my arms over my chest in a deliberate show of nonchalance that I knew would bait her. It worked.

"You...you...boar!" she sputtered, red faced.

"So gracious, W_ife," _I shot back.

"You are the most arrogant man I have ever met!"she was trembling in her indignation.

My eyes narrowed. "That is two insults too many, Lady. No more. Most men would be at my feet by now. And so will you be, in time. I warn you to curb that vile tongue of yours, or I will do it for you. I don't take that from anyone, least of all my wife." I said the word like it was poison.

"Do you think I wanted this? What have I ever done to you to earn such hatred?" Sealla's breast was heaving at the effort of controlling her temper.

My own temper was sorely tested. I hated everything this slip of a girl represented. I hated that I had been brought to heel, that she was the tool, and I was nothing but a servant of my own father's whim. Every time I looked at her, she would be nothing but a lead weight to me. I hated her questions, her nagging of me. I hated that she had charmed the world with her beauty and grace; I wanted nothing more from her but her absence, the one thing I could not have. If we were to be stuck, I could only extract my vengeance on her in the only way I knew how. The ire rose in me at the very sound of her plaintiveness, and beyond all reason, I felt the need to hurt, to crush, to dominate in kind. To take measure for measure from another what I felt had been stolen from me. And right now that person was the woman in from of me. I surely could not, would not explain any of that to her.

Instead, I let my eyes go black, and I stepped towards her. To her credit, she did not back down.

She should have.

She would have had she known what was to befall her that night.


End file.
